


Garrison Mac

by transcoranic



Series: Shiromatt week [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 3, M/M, ShiroMatt Week 2016, probably a crack fic, warning: there's no actual romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 07:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8154467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transcoranic/pseuds/transcoranic
Summary: Shiro is VERY VERY passionate about macaroni and cheese





	

Mac and Cheese day was Wednesday. It was one of the things that Shiro relied on at the Garrison. Whatever happened, Wednesday’s lunch would be Mac and Cheese, straight out of the can. It was absolutely disgusting. Shiro loved it.

And then it happened. It was Wednesday, and Shiro had stayed late after class to work out a few calculus problems (he was having trouble with integrals _again_ ). By the time he reached the cafeteria, most of the students were halfway done with lunch. Shiro hurried toward the counter, swooping over to grab a plate off the stack. He screeched to a halt before he knocked another student over. The boy, a redhead built like a toothpick, slipped ahead of Shiro and toward the vats of macaroni. Shiro watched in horror as he scraped the last of the vibrant orange pasta onto his plate. Shiro could only stare as the boy walked away, carrying the last precious noodles.

***

The next Wednesday, Shiro got to the mess hall early. He rushed to the line, practically vibrating with excitement. When he reached the macaroni, he began to pile the sweet pasta onto his plate. Behind him, someone chuckled and said “Leave some for the rest of us!” Shiro turned. It was _him_. The one who had taken his macaroni the week before.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and rushed away, cradling his plate like it was his firstborn child.

***

Two weeks later, as Shiro cowered over his macaroni, the boy, the _heinous macaroni thief_ , stuck out his hand. “I’m Matt.”

Shiro took a deep breath and extended his hand (he had to keep up appearances, show no weakness) “Uh, Takashi Shirogane, but you can call me Shiro.”

“Nice to meet you Shiro. I’ve seen you a couple times before.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro focused his attention back on his pasta.

The boy—Matt—wasn’t leaving, “So what _is_ your thing with macaroni?”

Shiro paused, “I just—I really like it, okay?”

“I’m not judging or anything.” He laughed (why was he always laughing?) “You should see my little sister around peanut butter.”

“It was very nice to meet you.” Shiro turned back to his plate, shoveling pasta into his mouth before it got cold. 

He was focused on this eminently important task for about a minute before he heard Matt say, “Well, see you around, then.”

Shiro grunted his assent.

***

Shiro had to stay late in calculus for the millionth time. The second the teacher finished, he sprinted to the mess hall. If he could get there fast enough maybe—

It wasn’t meant to be. He skidded around the corner, jostled a pair of younger students, nearly toppled the stack of plates, and reached the food station. The macaroni was gone. All of it. Every sweet noodle gone into the abyss. Gone. It was all gone.

Shiro’s life lost all meaning in that moment. He was aimless, purposeless. He floated in the void, hopeless, starving. And then he heard a voice.

“Shiro!” It was Matt. Horrible, terrible, thief of macaroni, destroyer of dreams, Matt. He stared, not knowing whether it was better to react or flee. Matt stood, walked over to him, “Shiro? Are you okay?”

Shiro nodded, mutely.

“Come over here and sit with me.” Matt’s fingers wrapped around Shiro’s wrist and dragged him, with surprising strength, toward a table in the corner of the room.

They reached the table. Matt was excited, he was saying something. He was saying “I know how much you love the macaroni and cheese, so I saved you some.”

Shiro couldn’t believe it. His opponent. His enemy. Was this a surrender? Was it another battle in the endless war? Was it a ploy to gain his favor? Whatever it was, it worked. The bribe was accepted. In that moment, Shiro would have done anything for Matt.

When he had finished, he looked at Matt, “Thank you.”

“Of course. You know, I can do this again, if you want.”

***

The Great Macaroni Truce stood for months. Shiro and Matt began to eat together every Wednesday, and then more, on other days. They started to have conversations about things that weren’t food. Matt would talk for hours about his life, his family, his younger sister. He loved math and science, hated history. Shiro did his best to hold up his end of the conversation, but he really didn’t need to.

Matt was the one who helped Shiro finally grasp integrals. Shiro, for his part, helped Matt with his history. They began to meet after class, in the library, mostly. 

Shiro began to notice the sweet things about Matt. The way he talked about his family. The way he had a sixth sense for how to calm someone down. The way his hair never laid down quite flat. He found himself struggling to believe that he’d ever despised this little piece of heaven as a macaroni criminal. 

***

Shiro sat in the kitchen and watched as Matt cooked. He moved like he had cooked in the same place a thousand times before. He was confident and self-assured as he put water on to boil (dash of salt and a drop of olive oil). As the water began to bubble, he handed Shiro a square grater and a brick of cheese. 

The growing pile of parmesan on the plate ticked off the time as Matt threw the pasta into the pot. The pasta wouldn’t take long to cook. It was, as Matt termed it “the good stuff.” Five minutes later, after Shiro watched Matt make the cheese sauce, it was ready.

“If we were really going to do this right, we’d have to bake it. For now, this will have to do.”

Shiro wasn’t listening, he was digging into the steaming heap of pasta on his plate. He had to pause when the food, fresh off the stove, scorched his mouth. 

“So, what do you think?” Matt asked.

Shiro took a second to think, “I don’t know, I still like the Garrison stuff better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry you had to read this. Hatemail is appreciated.


End file.
